


Stand by Me.

by LoudandDangerous



Category: Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Airport Parking Lots, Alternate Universe - High School, But don't let that fool you, Chuck E. Cheese - Freeform, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, IKEA, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inhuman, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Maroon - Freeform, Nightmares, Premature Ejaculation, Really adorable first date, Soap, Supernatural Elements, What a Catch Donnie (Song), mixtapes, sorry 'bout that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudandDangerous/pseuds/LoudandDangerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh sees death. He sees it whenever his teacher turns around, neatly in cursive on their wrist. He saw it when Pete put his lunch tray down and it always left him feeling fairly gross that the date was so close. </p><p>Then it changed. Extended when Pete met Patrick. Patrick was the reason to live, maybe Pete would be with Patrick when the event that killed him would occur.</p><p>Josh's wrist has June 7th, but it never says what year. </p><p>And well, there's a boy named Tyler Joseph who just doesn't have a death date at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 「 I 」

**I**

Now all that's left is a timer. A time bomb on the wrist, pale skin with changing blue numbers. Like a tattoo that moves, but nothing about this is cool. Then he drops. Silence stays until everything turns to anarchy.The class is in shambles, they're screaming, crying, rampaging among the telephone to call school extensions. Josh stands up from his desk, mumbling holy shit under his breath. He could've done something, he really could've. He had the power to change Pete's death date, so maybe had he brought his teacher to the hospital or called someone sooner he could've prevented it. He supposes that he really did not change Pete's death date, rather extend it, but boy, was it a sight seeing the numbers melt into something different? November turns to May, 18 turns to 30, 2016 turns to 2078. A difference.

 

Josh tries to think positive thoughts right now. It's not the first death he could've prevented this week. But two negatives make a positive, right? Josh thinks of seeing the numbers change on Peter Wentz's wrist.

 

_"Hey, Pete." Josh whispers in the classroom, thinking about a barista he met over the weekend. "His name was Patrick. You might like him." Josh mumbles, seeing Pete's face of unadulterated apathy. It's primarily because Josh has tried playing matchmaker before and failed oh-so miserably. "He's--he's new, so maybe you could show him around?" He tries winking, looks like a moth flew into his eye._

 

_"I don't need your help, Dun." He looks up from his sketchbook. "Where's Cartman, Kenny and Kyle? Don't you have somewhere else to be? Someone else to pester, Stan?"_

 

_Josh mumbles under his breath, pulling Patrick from the hall and introducing the two. He cleared his throat. "Pete, this is Patrick. Patrick, this is Pete."_

 

 _Josh saw the way things lit up. Numbers green and spiraling before melting onto his Pete's skin. ~~November 18th, 2016.~~ May 30th, 2078. Maybe Patrick is the saving grace for the broken angel. Josh saw that with his own eyes. The only eyes he was aware of _ _that could do what he did. Something beautiful about it all around. He made a difference._

 

He could've made a difference now as well. He knew it would happen. He knew when. He knew where. He just didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to do what he should've and now--

 

Now Mr. Brolofski is laying dead on the school floor.

 

Josh shuts down, rocking slowly with his knees pulled to his chest. He's going to throw up all over the place while the class riots. It's like burning binary, wrists changing numbers. A few probably because they can't go on having just witnessed the death of their teacher. Josh is going to get sick, he's going to hurl all over his books, himself and he does. He looks to his wrist, the beautiful color sprawled but no year. That worries him. 

 

Is it strange to feel fear every June 7th? As if Armageddon or Godzilla were to attack? The plague to come back. The Purge to commence. Blood singing all around your ears.

 

Josh's biggest fear is June 7th _(and Capitalism)_ , he never knows which year. And every year on June 8th, he throws party for himself.  _Another year not dead!_

 

When the paramedics arrive, Josh feels subtle guilt for not doing anything at all. Nothing kills a man faster than his own head. Josh passes out in his pool of vomit. It's gross. A classmate slips in it, one is prying homework from their teacher's dead hands (education is still important even if your teacher is dead), one is having an asthma attack and it all unfolds beside Josh's unconscious body.

First, he sees the red beanie, tilting to the side on brown messy hair. Then he sees the arm, extending the glass of water. He rolls up his sleeve and Josh is alarmed. _Where's the day? What the hell?_ Instead, he sees red lines. Dotted a bit, but you will never notice if you do not look carefully. Josh always looks carefully, always makes sure things are placed neatly, always observes the world around him because one day he could wake up and all of it changes. He's observed it with Pete, he can observe it now. 

 

Wether he has a year or not, that is not the question or matter of reason. The real matter of reason is the simple fact that this boy has no year nor no  _day or month._

 

"You knew." He whispers, turning to hand Josh the glass. Josh is hesitant to take it, he thinks carefully about the things he wants to say. His head bleeds ringing, torrent sounds over run ramped in his mind frame. "….Peter sang like a canary." He pauses.  _"You knew."_

 

"I would've done something." Josh trails off, thinking about what he really could've done but failed to do so. "…why'd Wentz tell you?" He whispers, looking to his lap.

 

"….because I said please and thank you." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. Josh is fairly paranoid about this boy. Brown haired boy with bitchy bearing. Josh snickers at his alliteration. Looking over to the plethora of glass cups on the table. Josh pouts a bit, the boy's hand grazes over his arm as he lathers on lotion. Lotion over the number placement that should be there.

 

Maybe he just doesn't see it because he's just woken up from passing out. His stomach feels disgusting, maybe because it's empty. "Why are you here?"  _And what are you? Where's your death date?_ Josh finds it strange that he's questioning the date of this stranger's death and not his name or where he is. "…. _who are you?_ "

 

"Tyler Joseph." He hesitates, thinking precariously about Josh. "….and you're Joshua Dun. Out there--" He points sharply out the window. "--that's the street and the sky." Sarcasm burns, Josh is subtle to enjoy it. "You slipped in your own vomit. It was bloody hell disgusting." He grimaces, Josh can't help but laugh. "So….tell me what you know." He inquires, Josh is hesitant but he's not going to gainsay. 

 

"I can see the date of people's deaths." He shrugs, tubes moving with his arms and only then does he know where he is. "On their left wrist, to be exact." Josh taps his own, seeing June 7th written ever so perfectly. "Now that I've provided you with information, do you think you could give  _me_ some information?"

 

Tyler pivots, eyeing Josh before sitting on the foot of the hospital bed. "Little Birdie Wentz and Small Star Stump brought you here. Aftermath of the classroom sort of left everybody fairly shaken. You think it's your fault."

 

"It was. I could've done something. Warned, told, advised! I did nothing." He keeps a straight face, eyeing Tyler with his full attention. 

 

"--Brendon also thinks it's his fault." Tyler crosses his arms. "Little kid had an asthma attack with the retainer in his mouth, going on about how it was God's punishment because he jerked off to an episode of Supernatural. Dallon thinks it was his fault, he never cleaned his room when he told his mom he did. Ashley thinks it was because she actually tried to do something good, which she never does and how she tried to do something nice, because of it, Karma came back." 

 

"But they're not like me. They--they can't see what I've done. Can't see what I do!" Josh rips the wires and tubes off, much to Tyler's chagrin.

 

"WETHER THEY CAN OR CAN'T, IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT!" Tyler shouts, cracked voice resounding throughout the room. "YOU COULDN'T HAVE DONE ANYTHING!"

 

"….if I can change Pete's fate, why couldn't I have changed Mr. Brolofski's?" Josh whisper-shouts, fury rippling throughout his broiling blood. 

 

"Because you just--Shit, Josh! Just listen, I'm not here to hurt you….I just want to fuckin' know what you know. You knew something.  _You knew."_ Tyler whispers on the latter note, taking a deep breath as Josh leans back while Tyler leans foreword. Josh pushes Tyler away, shaking just a bit when Tyler's wrist has numbers spindling on his wrist. 

 

_December 1st, 2015._

 

Josh swallows, snatching the trash can and throwing up in it. Bile as there is nothing left. Tyler pushes the glass of water foreword, Josh stares quizzically before reluctantly taking it. He's shaking as he takes the glass, taking a deeper breath when he drinks. "I think we're done here." He whispers, Josh knows him from somewhere. Blue numbers spindling and shaking on Tyler's wrist as he walks out, closing the door behind him. 

 

"Done here, indeed." Josh whispers.

* * *

  **II**

Josh sees Tyler again at a football game. A week after the funeral and two weeks after the fateful first encounter. Josh recognizes the red beanie, the look of apathy over powers, well,  _everything._ They lock eyes for a moment among the football field during halftime. Josh slows his walking when he notices Tyler watching. They don't smile, grin, wave. They share the same look.  _You don't belong here._ Tyler seems to say as it appears to Josh.  _You're different._ _Leave._ Tyler's thoughts sing with an opposite. 

 

_Why am I here? Maybe if I--_

 

**_die._ **

 

_Be quiet, Blurry._

 

December 1st springs to life on tan flesh and red lines. But slowly melts back and Josh sees it, fear stricken behind his brown eyes. He looks foreword, continues walking as Tyler stares on. Josh takes a seat on the bleachers, leaning back and wincing whenever the uniform of a football player ruffles up on the arm and he can see small blue writing. Too small to decipher, but he knows it's there.  _He knows._ It sickens him like the day he was kicked out of boy scouts for punching a fellow Cub. A busted lip, bloody sly grin showing baby teeth and bloody uniform. Patches, sash, necktie. Blood.

 

Brown and red, brown hair, red beanie sits beside Josh on the cold, rigid bleachers. Josh shifts, but the hand on his shoulder stops him under the bright Friday lights. "What do you want?"

 

"To talk." Tyler shrugs as Josh sits back in place.

 

"Last time a fuckboy said that, I got a dick pic…" Josh rolls his eyes, trailing down to Tyler's pants. "Not that you'd have anything worth looking at anyway." 

 

"One,  _rude._ Two,  _I'm not a_ fuckboy." Tyler scoffs at Josh's remark. 

 

"That's exactly what a fuckboy would say. Don't you think?" Josh leans in, quizzical grin.

 

"Listen, about the other week…" He takes a deep breath. "I guess I--"

 

"Shut up." Josh is alarmed, panic flashing through.

 

_"Rude."_

 

"No! Shut--shut the fuck up." He stands, pushing his index finger to Tyler's lips and running across the field.  _Tick, tick, tick._ Her arm has no day.  _Just time._ 00:30. Tyler stands, touchdown on the field and everybody riots. He sees it clear, she's having an anxiety attack. Heart palpitations.  _She's going to die._ As Josh rushes to her aid, Tyler watches as he kneels beside her. Kneels with water, calming words and--and the numbers change. Restoring and Josh knows that if she were to say she could've died, well, she wouldn't be wrong. He calls the nurse, ambulance as Tyler watches on is confusion. Josh, an enigma, he supposes. Blonde melts with Chestnut. A primarily more than friendly embrace between two girls. Josh is shaking as he watches it all take place. Red, blue, white ambulances. Black, gold, brown uniforms and footballs stop on the field. Red, black, brown, hoodie, beanie and hair watch. Himself. Red hair, white hoodie.

 

The school watched on. Josh feels glowing eyes stare him down. He turns, blinded by lights and more importantly, stares. He runs, faster until he can't move anymore. In the dark he stands, by the unlit baseball field, pulling up his hood and throwing up all over the sandlot. He takes a breath, only to be met with pure vomit. All over as the brunet stand behind with his hands in his pocket. "You puke a lot, did you know that?" He tilts his head and Josh stops, thinking but pukes again to Tyler repetitive chagrin. "They saw it, Josh." He smiles weakly, Josh can't see in the darkness. Faint lights glow but when Josh turns, he can see it again. He sees blue,  _December 1st._ Like a taunting villain.  _Hello, Josh._ _It's me! Death. Lingering around you, ghosting over you every June 7th and coming to reclaim another soul on December 1st. This one is heavy, dirty. How lovely, ain't it?_

 

Josh kicks grass over the puke on the ground when he stands. He's okay for now. He puts his hands in his pockets, thinking carefully about his next move. He looks out, Tyler standing a few feet behind him. More than personal space. "You don't get it, do you, Joseph?"

 

"Get what?"

 

"Get this. Get me! Hell, She could've died. Think of how many times you exaggerate the term  _'I could've died!'._ You don't get it. You use it as a term of expression, but I--I know if you almost died. She  _did._ I don't like this. Jesus fuck, I hate it. I'm a fucking  _FREAK!_ You don't get it!"

 

"I do get it. You're not the only one they call a freak. A weirdo. A loser."

 

"You're a fuckboy, you can't be a loser." Josh defends, leaning against the pitching fence. 

 

"It's all fake. A loser hides behind a mask of my disguise." Tyler wanders on, standing in the darkened field. He leans against the other fence, opposite of Josh. "Come here, Stand by me." Josh obliges to Tyler's request. "…we may be freaks, or losers or weirdos and fuck those who say we are because I didn't ask for their goddamn opinion." Josh laughs. "Sometimes we need someone to stand by us and what happened in the hospital room was real shitty, so let me just be the first one to say--"

 

"We should start over?"

 

"Ha…no. Just sort of stay together. I mean, you know when we end. I might be the one that ends things." He shrugs, Josh is perplexed by what he means by that. "Let's rebel and bullshit like that because we only live once." Tyler laughs as Josh slides down the fence to the floor.

 

"Only fuckboys say YOLO." 

 

"Then maybe I'm a fuckboy." So they share silence throughout their walk. Small glances when the other isn't looking. Maybe this is enough. 

* * *

**III**

Consideration of the fact that Tyler and Josh are two negatives is not what is important. They are 2 negatives. And 2 negatives make a positive. Running through the forest playing hopscotch along the way is a perfect example of the positive. Tyler whispers when the officers follow them. They climb in a tree and sit among the branches, hiding within leaves as the police come and go. Josh lights a lighter to see, unable to see the blue writing on the officers wrists and he's thankful for that. Tyler sits on the branch with him, joking around with sexual innuendos like rubbing profusely on the tree branch and faking a high pitched moan as Josh laughs. "Ride me, Joshie. Don't you want to?" He snickers in a falsetto, grinding harder. Josh is surprised he hasn't gotten a hard-on yet. Then he stops. Tan skin, red lines, blue writing.

 

"You remind me of the monster under my bed." Tyler mumbles on the tree.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You are everything that scares me and everything I want." He solemnly answers, intriguing Josh at the same time. "What kind of music do you listen to?" 

 

"My thoughts." Josh thinks, feeling blue numbers spindle above his head like a comic book.  _When all the numbers sing a song that I don't want to believe. As all the numbers listen to my words and repeat the antonym. I love you. But I hate you. This is beautiful. This is torrent._ "…they sing me to sleep. Lullabies all the time." He whispers. Tyler dotes on him in that moment. He knows exactly what that feels like. 

 

**ain't he just a freak like you?**

 

_Go away._

 

**make me, joseph.**

 

Blue. Red. Tan. Josh sees it all, trying his hardest not to listen. Trying not to hear. Trying not to believe. "When I was younger…" Tyler says, almost singing. Josh looks up in the darkness of the silence in the trees. "..I read a story called 'Candyland'."

 

"Like the board game?" Josh sits up on the branch.

 

"No, see, it was about this boy named Tyler. My mom bought the book because we had the same name. And in the book, Tyler fell in love with the evil ruler of Candyland. The book was pretty ambiguous about the evil ruler though, because the 'evil ruler' ended up being a little boy named Kyle. So in the end, Tyler and Kyle lived happily ever after in the castle of Candyland."

 

"What happened to the book?"

 

"My mother burned it for bringing 'homosexual sins into the household'." Tyler laughs, grinning. "Really, it was _me_ that brought homosexual sins into the household…but whatever." He shrugs, laughing with Josh. "I kind of liked it though. The book made me feel normal."

 

 _"You are normal."_ Josh defends, subtle anger broiling that Tyler gets to be the popular kid with little to no issues and he himself can see the date everyone kicks the bucket. "…hell of a lot more normal than me." He sulks, looking off to the side.

 

**no we aren't.**

 

Tyler remains silent. 

* * *

**IV**

 

"Hey, Joseph!" Josh calls out, tossing a soccer ball his way and hitting the brunet in the face. "….your hand and eye coordination is bullshit." He snickers as Tyler's face turns red. Wether it's flushed, blushed, embarrassment or the blood pouring profusely out of his nose, Josh is still concerned. "Oh fuck…." He steps foreword, Tyler kneels to the linoleum floor of the convenience store. He mumbles curse words underneath his breath. Blue numbers.

 

**see tyler, he already wants to make you b.l.e.e.d.**

 

_Stop._

 

**you never want to play, do you? I'm fun. I'm a nice king. with a nice kingdom. and I can make your day. in more ways. than. one.**

 

_Leave. Now._

 

**never smile. no fun. humpty dumpty grumpy joseph.**

 

_ZETUS LUPTUS, FUCKIN' CHRIST BLURRY!_

 

Josh stands, holding his hand for Tyler to take as he holds his nose. "Sorry 'bout that." He grimaces, smiling just a bit. Weakly but sincerely. "Come on." He walks foreword, Tyler behind like the Follow Me photos on Instagram.

 

"Where are we going?" It's nasal, he can't exactly sound like he usually does when he's holding his nose. "…hell?"

 

"No, I need to get some tissues." He stops in the paper product aisle, ripping open a box to Tyler's dismay.

 

"WHAT THE FRICKITY DICK DACK ARE YOU DOING?!"

 

"….if I pay for it, I can use it." Josh shrugs. "I'll buy it when I'm done and then we'll have tissues." He administers the tissues to Tyler's face, coppery red liquid dripping and sliding onto the once white tissue. 

 

"We already have issues."

 

"…where?" Josh is confused. Tyler realizes Josh heard 'tissues' not 'issues'. At least they have both now. As the bleeding stops, Josh locks eyes with Tyler. Brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a haze of fluorescent lighting and bloody tissue like Josh's boy scout uniform. He wipes his thumbs over excess blood and eyes his finger. He wipes it on Tyler's shirt and pulls him, dipping him into a kiss. His body tenses up, strange but….new. 

 

He fucking loves that feeling.

 

* * *

**V**

"You don't have to be so tense…" Josh sits above Tyler, lying beneath him with a fearsome look on his face. "…I'll be gentle."

 

" _You_ can be gentle during sex?" Tyler raises any eyebrow, not bothering to watch Josh as he rolls on the condom. 

 

"I can give it to you rougher." Josh laughs as Tyler groans underneath him.

 

"I'll take my chances of surviving with gentle." Tyler rolls his eyes, cringing when Josh pushes in.  _It feels different. **He's terrible at this.** Shut up, Blurry._ Blue sprawls across Tyler's wrist as Josh gains a steady pace. Trying not to look at the tan skin, red lines and blue writing. Oh god, it's going to kill his boner. Knowing Tyler's death date is terrible. Especially when it's only there half the time. _Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._

 

He comes right there. It didn't even last for 3 minutes. 

 

He collapses beside Tyler, crying when he sees the blue writing.  _I can't fucking change it._ Tyler is primarily in shock, having just lost his virginity and his boyfriend couldn't last 3 minutes. Let alone keep it up. The brunet simply hushes the older man, pulling him close as he cries harder. Tyler's touch  _burns._ It burns badly, like a demon touching an angel. Wether Josh is the angel or the demon, he can't decide. It just hurts. 

 

He's shaking in Tyler grasp, breathing stuttered and erratic. 

 

"I--i'm-so…fuckin--sorry…" He gasps out as Tyler soothes him, petting his hair calmly. "I could try harder next time." He whispers, calming down under Tyler's hands. 

 

"shh…" He buries himself in Josh's hair, like a sheepskin rug. Josh listens to his heartbeat. 

 

"Tyler, when's your birthday?"

 

_"December 1st."_

 

Maybe his thoughts aren't the only song he loves to hear. He pushes up from Tyler, digging in his junk drawer before coming upon a cassette tape. Josh stutters. "I--I made you a mixtape." Josh blushes, handing the cassette tape to Tyler. "I know you like music….alot, actually. So…" Tyler kisses him with passion, butterflies fucking screeching in Josh's stomach like fans watching the Superbowl. "There was this one song, call Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by The Police. It made me think of you, but they sort of talk about a girl in it. I--I put it on there just in case." He blushes awkwardly, putting his hand behind his neck and biting his lip as Tyler observes the tape. The numbers rise into his skin, blue blurring and appearing as they melt into tan skin with red lines. Josh hates seeing the lines. Knowing that they might just be the reason those numbers are there. It's gross and he feels selfish. For not worrying about Tyler's safety, but the fact that he won't have Tyler anymore.

 

He wants to kick himself in the gut for think of such a thing.

 

"Do you want to go on a date?" Josh teeters on the heels of his feet, thinking about rejection. Disgusting rejection, brown-orange like a wet leaf in Autumn. Embarrassing, like jumping into a crunchy leaf pile to find that there's nothing but damp leaves and sorrow lying beneath you. "…like a real date?" He internally sighs, slowing his breath as Tyler tilts his head. The brunet's shadow tilts with him.

 

 _A shadow tilts his head at me,_ maybe there's something in the darkness of the blocked reflection that Josh doesn't see. Maybe the spirits in the dark are waiting. Bleak silence is shared between the brunet and boy with flames for hair. Tyler says nothing, stays silent but nods. Josh's heart rate jumps 10, 20, 30. He blushes, mumbling an oh my gosh underneath his breath. His mind is roaring as though his emotions are dumping out files, after file. Remembering proper etiquette, how to treat somebody, setting ablaze his soul but maybe Tyler already did that. Cut his heart open, a butcher with a knife and a smile. 

 

A tear in his heart?

* * *

**VI**

The house looked bleak along the gray and rainy skyline. Tyler told Josh not to wear anything fancy, so he didn’t. Josh wore a casual shirt and some jeans, hoping that it would be good enough.

 

Tyler called Josh out in his black raincoat with matching umbrella and boots.

 

They drove across town to the Red Lobster in the strip mall and headed to the doors. Josh headed to the Red Lobster, Tyler headed towards the Chuck E Cheese. Josh looked at the Red Lobster and then followed Tyler.

 

‘’So...We’re going to Chuck E Cheese instead?’’Josh questioned.

 

‘’Mmmhm’’ Tyler said as he nodded his head ‘’Would you rather be stuck in an awkward position at a hella fancy restaurant, or actually have a chance to bond at somewhere fun?’’

 

Josh nodded his head in agreement as they entered the pizza parlor. Tyler took off his raincoat to reveal a dress shirt. Josh purchased the tokens and pizza as Tyler found a table. It was empty except for a few workers and the animatronics. Tyler looked around before locking his eyes on the jungle gym. Tyler grabbed Josh’s hand and pulled him towards the colossal structure and proceeded climbing up inside, stopping at the top only to motion his hand at Josh to follow him. Josh Looked around and climbed inside.

 

‘’Come on, Josh! Catch me if you can!’’ Tyler's voice echoed through the silicone tubes and bounced through the path behind Josh.

 

‘’I’m trying, Tyler, Just...I...don’t exercise...so..I might possibly die.’’Josh panted as he continued his journey to find Tyler in the eternal tunnels of Chuck E Cheese.

 

An employee called them down for pizza and told them that they had to take it to go as they were closing in a few minutes. By this time, Josh had already gone around the entire jungle gym.

  
"BOO!" Tyler screamed from behind Josh. When Josh shrieks, Tyler giggles and Josh finds it to be the cutest thing ever. "I mean, we can go…but the night’s still young, It’s only 7:53. What do you what to do next?" His voice full of pure intention and spark.

 

“I don’t know, somewhere fun though. Somewhere can explore.” Josh thinks as Tyler grips his waist and pulls him down the slide.

 

"Ikea!" Tyler began chuckling.

 

"Really?" Josh asked as he began to perk up. "Only if you're serious."

 

They sing. Josh drives. Tyler goes moody at some points, Josh is concerned at the numbers. The highway illuminates the sun setting. Josh hums along to the music, wonders why there are no close Ikea stores but appreciates the time he gets to spend with Tyler. Wether it's the last moments or with a few weeks left. ….. _he thinks it's a few weeks, right?_

 

The parking lot is blue and yellow, Swedish words mingle with English as TYler hops out with pep in his step and happiness in his heart. Singing a song as he yanks Josh's hand and pulls him inside. The show rooms are upstairs, but Tyler insists on getting yogurt while Josh grabs a cart, with no clear intention to purchase anything. Tyler sits in the cart, Josh wants to pull him closer.

  

"Do not tell me Ikea yogurt is not ice cream." Tyler laughs as Josh pulls the cart, wandering through show rooms. "It's ice cream I tell you! The. lies. are in. the ice. cream."

 

"Okay, Joseph." Josh laughs, coming upon an idea. He leans to whisper in Tyler's ear. "Hey, see that lady over there?" Tyler nods, stifling laughter because Josh probably has something dumb planned and he can't wait to be an accomplice. "I need you to pretend to be my husband." 

 

"Whatever floats your boat, Jishwa." He hops out the cart, letting Josh grip him by the waist and pull him as they stifle laughter. "Okay, let's go." He approaches the woman, blue and yellow shirt and faux smile. "Good afternoon…" He fakes a British accent, it's terrible and Tyler is almost dying of laughter. Josh can see the date on the woman's wrist, December 24th, 2019. It's immensely sad, but Josh dismisses the thought and continues. "My dear husband here…" He puts his palm on Tyler's chest. "…and I, broke the bed last night during our…" He swallows, sharing a glance with Tyler. "Lust and thrusting." Tyler can't hold it anymore. He grips his sides as he falls on the floor, slipping from Josh's grip and laughing as loud as he can. 

 

"WHAT THE FUCK IS _'LUST AND THRUSTING'_!?" He shouts from the floor as lost patrons fearfully watch him. 

 

"IT'S SEXUAL INTERCOURSE! NOW PLEASE BE SERIOUS, THEODORE!" He shouts in the accent, Tyler is on the brink of tears. 

 

I-/

 

Tyler is drying his eyes from laughter. Not the laughter Josh induced with the British accent, Lust and thrusting, Theodore and of course, disrupting the peace of IKEA, but Tyler's laughing because of the aftermath. The aftermath including them getting photos taken like mugshots and hung up on the doors of IKEA. 

 

_Tyler Robert Joseph. Banned from IKEA for life._

_Joshua William Dun. Banned from IKEA for life. Do not let these two in, wether alone or together._

 

"Let's go to the airport." Tyler manages through laughter. Josh doesn't hesitate pulling out the parking lot and driving down the highway to the airport. The orange lights on the loop around illuminate the car as Tyler watches with misty eyes and a whole hearted grin of pure happiness. Like chaos behind brown eyes but the chaos is over ruled. Over ruled by a beautiful feeling, and when Tyler pulls away from the window. Staying silent and looking to his lap, the numbers spiral and return. He swallows, Josh is shaking but trying to remain stable. The steering wheel depends on it. The numbers finish their binary overload.

 

December 1st, 2015.

 

Josh is going to throw up. Oh god, that's next week. That's next. fucking. week. 

 

He drives, taking deep breath.  _Why is he so concerned about Tyler? What is about Tyler that makes Josh weak in the knees? Warm in the heart? Hard in--_

 

_other places?_

 

 _Oh, Mr. Joseph. You don't know what you do to me. This ain't fair, baby. Come on, sugar. Stop. You can't do this, babe. How **cruel.**_

 

The airport parking lot is pavement and potholes underneath the wheels of Josh's car. He pulls into a spot, sitting as Tyler looks out the window. Lips parted just a bit, fairly so to see the bottom of his two front teeth. He narrows his eyes, just to look unsurely out the window. The radio playing some pop song that Josh absolutely _hates._ A melody of happiness, these songs were never built for tense moments.  _Gross._ Josh opens the sunroof, not the glass, just the covering. It's too cold for that. The stars shine bright, overrun by fluorescent lights of the airport terminals and train mezzanines. 

 

"I want to jump out of a window." Josh mumbles underneath his breath, hating the silence he shares with his lover. 

 

"If you do, I'll complain about Capitalism until your ghost comes back to smack me upside the head."

 

"Good to know you care." Josh says lovingly, he appreciates Tyler's reassurance.

 

"Good to know you'll stand by me." Tyler says in response. He looks up to the stars of the November night. Smiling at the stars until he realizes the brightest one is right beside him in the car. "….you're lovely."

 

"….nobody says that unless it's a cruel joke." Josh mumbles beside himself. _Mr. Joseph, you don't know what you do to me._ "Why'd you want to go to the airport? The Chuck E Cheese? The Ikea?" Tyler sits, thinking.  _wow._ He takes a depp breath, inhaling the smoky scent of Josh's car.

 

"Chuck E Cheese. Think about it, if we decide to have a kid or whatever, I would've wanted you to be good with kids. Actually taking me to Chuck E Cheese already proved part of it, and the second part was that you actually enjoyed yourself." He watches a plane take off overhead, soaring over the fluorescent building buzzing with travelers and their loved ones. "The prospect of moving in together is a pretty neat one." He shrugs. "Maybe if I actually start a life with you, we'd move in together. Maybe we'd be at IKEA for a different reason." Josh admires the way the lights reflect Tyler's eyes. The pure wonder of a 4 year old exuberant through the haze of ideas. "I think I'd like to see the world someday." Josh calms, seeing no timer but still alarmed for the same exact reason. "Go places. I'd take you with me and I suppose that's how we ended up here."

 

"Why?"

 

"Each place is basically a symbol of the life we'd have together. Build it! You know? Make it  _ours._ And counting from the fact that you even  _took me to all these fuckin places_ _…_ that--that's it. The fact that you went beyond for a dweeb like me?" Tyler opens his pocket, pulling out the mixtape and sliding it into the player of Josh's car. He skips the first few songs, playing Every Little Thing by The Police and smiling at Josh with an awkward smile. As though he's trying to smile, but he's too apathetic to do so. "Come on." He pops open the car door, turning up the music and telling Josh to get out. 

 

"I learned this dance last year." Josh takes the lead, dipping Tyler into a kiss and smiling against his lips. "I think it's called the Twist or something like that."

 

"I know it." Tyler smiles as the piano plays in the music. "….but my silent fears have gripped me…" He sings along.

 

"…long before I reach the phone." Josh continues. "Long before my tongue has tripped me." They twist in the parking lot. Singing along, belting out with the Vans twisting with their feet on the pavement. "Every little thing…." 

 

"Every little--"

 

"Every little thing."

 

And Josh truly loves everything Tyler does. So they twist in the parking lot. Singing in the car along to the rest of the mixtape. 'We built this city', 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Love is an open door' and 'Don't you (Forget about me)'. Tyler falls asleep in the car, Josh avoids the holes while the music plays on. The numbers spiral as Tyler grimaces in his sleep. They're back and Josh's heart is about to jump out of his chest. He wants to crack the door and just fall out. But Tyler had reached in the back and buckled up his heart, Josh knows Tyler's safety is the most important thing in the world.

* * *

**VII**

It's after Thanksgiving, Tyler called Josh and pretty much live tweeted family drama.  _("Katherine Joseph, do not give me that bullshit. You knew you should've come to the baby shower, that's why you're still single!'' "Nobody gives a fuck, Kelly. Where's Chris? Off with some slut he picked up!?" They rioted on the table, Aunt Katherine had totally acted savage.)_

 

Josh met with Tyler to go see a Disney movie earlier to celebrate Tyler's birthday. One about a dinosaur or something. Now comes the day he regrets being alive to see.

 

_December 1st, 2015._

 

Snow is twisting on the rooftops. Josh drove down to New Jersey for this moment, instant tears brimming his eyes. One rolls down his cheek as Tyler lays on the snowy beach. He makes snow angels, full and free. Josh picks him up, Tyler wraps his legs around Josh's waist while Josh marches to the sea. It's reminding Josh of an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. When Squidward gave Spongebob a pie. The pie was a bomb. So they lay as Spongebob's final hours commence.

 

Josh walks in the water, not bothered by the 12 degree water freezing his legs and making his jeans stick to his legs. He buries his face in Tyler's shoulder, smiling as he cries but doesn't let Tyler know nor see. Tyler wrist shows the numbers as he lays silent. His migraine is raging within, the cold can't be good for him. 

 

 **hey, joseph** **….**

 

_no._

 

**what's wrong? don't you wanna play? i have some building blocks, a few legos that you could step on. some knives to dig in your flesh.**

 

"Hey, Joseph…"  _No,_ Josh thinks.  _It can't be. The timer can't tick. no. no. no. oh god. no more days. a minute until final._

 

The timer is running. 00:09. Josh thinks of the last things he wants Tyler to hear. He looks out to the moonlight, the moon melting into the New Jersey sea of Sea Gurt beach. 

 

_**"** Tyler, I Love You."_

 

And the timer runs out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized on the Stressed Out backpack, there's an alien and a skeleton and I just fucking understood that Tyler was the fuckin skeleton and Josh was the goddamn alien and IM SCREMAING BECAUSE IM SO FUCKIN LATE
> 
>  
> 
> I HAD A DREAm where Tyler sent JOSH NUDE S on DS pictochat aND IM DYING


	2. 「 II 」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when we see it as things had played out, Tyler never was the one to die.
> 
>  
> 
> Blurryface was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a license plate on the ground outside today.
> 
> It's mine now.

**VIII**

Tears rolling down his face as he sits, cross legged in the water, ignoring the cold. No more numbers, but Tyler still stays in his arms warm grip. The taste of his cigarettes linger in Josh's mouth, his cologne sticking to Josh's sweater, His shirt soaking with Josh's tears. Josh cries, seeing no more numbers.

 

No more blue.

 

_All gone._

 

Josh hums softly to himself, singing a song almost eerily as the sound is nothing but celestial humming and cold, December waves crashing against each other while the moon melts in the water. Josh is cold, slow breaths clouding before him and hanging loosely in the air. "…I will tell you, I love you. But the muffs on your ears will cater your fears. My nose and feet are running as we start. To travel through snow. Together we go….." He swallows hard, smoke from love cigarettes burning his mouth. He hates smoking, thought it was gross since the _D.A.R.E_ Lion came to his 2nd grade class to teach. Although he hates smoking, he loves the way Tyler's mouth tasted. Grey clouds of smoke, smell lingering to the clothes that fit so perfectly around his body curves. Beautiful, perfect curves of Tyler's body. 

 

The skin and bones used to cage the beating heart that Josh used to sleep to the sound of it's thrum. He'd match the beat, the heart of the local dreamer. The heart that beats no more.

 

"…what the fuck?" Josh's body goes numb in the frozen ocean, but not numb enough that he can't feel warmth against his neck. Warmth under the layers of clothing. Warmth from the beating heart held in the cage of the local dreamer. 

 

"Hi, Josh." Tyler whispers, muffled on the coat. Josh can feel Tyler smiles against his shoulder, his heart is beating faster. Shrieking in his body. "…you sound concerned….why?" He says softly, brunet hair whipping slowly in the freeze breeze of Sea Gurt. Josh considers his choices. He cannot tell Tyler  _'Babe, you're supposed to be dead.'_ and he sure as anything can't say  _'What the hell are you?'_

 

"I--the--…..your death date." Josh whimpers, Tyler's heart beats faster. The tables turn, Tyler is concerned. Josh is fairly sure why. "Don't--please don't panic. Don't be afraid." He whispers, Tyler is already hyperventilating. "Sweetheart, I said don't be afraid." He feels his nose go red, just a bit as the tears start. Don't we all feel them circulating before we cry?  _"I said don't be afraid."_

 

Tyler is against Josh's chest as they rise, Josh soaked and standing on his feet, observing the moon's grave ripple amongst the breeze. "….have you ever thought about death before? Obviously, but not  _other deaths_ as much as  _your own?"_

 

"Of course I have." Josh nods, boots crunching into the snow and sand. He momentarily stops, thinking about the words he's going to say. Articulating them properly in his mind like a machine. "…those who know ask me all the time.  _'Isn't it scary, Josh?' 'When will I die? So I can be prepared.'''_

 

"That's the thing…." Tyler begins, breath clouding in the frozen air.

 

 _"You're never prepared for death."_ They say together, smiling sweetly at each other before letting comfortable silence linger between them. Moon glinting on the flames for hair, the brunet local dreamer. Tyler doesn't go silent, there's nothing to fill the cold void inside his head.

 

"Believe me," Tyler grins. _"I wasn't prepared for mine."_ Tyler stops, thinking. "…let's change the subject." 

* * *

  **IX**

Josh lays in bed that night, Tyler beside him with nothing but tan skin and red lines. Though it often snows, only water rains down on the small town west of Sea Gurt. He listens to the soft patter and thinks about what Tyler said. 

 

_"Nobody's prepared for death. I wasn't prepared for mine."_

 

If Tyler never died, then who did? Perhaps Josh said the wrong thing. Perhaps saying those three little words made something within Tyler die. Something torrent. He plays with his thumbs before looking to the popcorn ceiling of the motel and raising his eyebrows. He rolls over, carding his fingers through brown hair, receiving a subtle smile in return as Tyler sleeps. "My little Local Dreamer." Josh mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to Tyler's forehead. He rolls around, the wall as his visual companion to survive the night. "…this sounds cheesy, but doesn't everything at some point?" He mumbles to the peeling wall. "Just hear me out." He clears his throat, sitting up and closing his eyes. He leans his head against the backboard, the one they almost broke a few hours earlier during their  _'lust and thrusting'._ "Are you there, God?" He cringes at how terrible it sounds. "…there's something fucked up about me. It's not like I haven't tried to fix it. I tried dumping bleach in my eyes so I wouldn't see the numbers and yet, that's the very thing that stopped me. Remember when that little girl ran into the street, timer ticking and I had to drop the Clorox bottle to go push her out of the way? I--Tyler can't save me. Tyler can't save himself." He shakes his head, rolling up the sheets and stepping to the carpet of the motel room. 

 

Feet light upon the ground, slowly tiptoeing to the bathroom and turning the handle slowly. Water running, beginning as he unwraps the bar of soap and sets it on the counter. "--I don't want to be like this. I don't want Tyler to stand by me. If he does--he'll be corrupted too. He'll be a sinner." He doesn't know who he's talking to. Could be the squirrel outside the window. Maybe the spider on the ceiling. Maybe it's Tyler, sleeping ever so soundly in the bed behind him. Perhaps it's himself. Something to make him feel better. Josh turns off the faucet, stepping in the lukewarm water and seeing it ripping around his toes, then ankle, foot and entire thigh. He dips the soap bar in the water, added lubrication for what he's about to do next. He slowly opens his mouth, shoving the bar of soap inside and feeling disgust ripple through his mouth and stomach. 

 

 _'Maybe I Love You was a bad decision. Better wash my mouth out with soap. If he gets attached, I'm just going to end up hurting him_ _…..I always hurt them.'_

 

He plays Bohemian Rhapsody on his phone as he feels the soap glide inside his mouth. Red hair, Blue music, Tan soap. Red, Blue, Tan. He coughs, spitting up the soap into the water. "It's not love without pain." Josh smiles, cleansed mouth reeling with soapy bubbles. Numbers over his wrist, blue writing.  _June 7._ He slows his breathing. 

 

"I am going to be okay." He reassures himself. "I am going to be okay." Tyler watches from the doorway, heavy eyelids tired but watching Josh's breakdown. His wrist is no numbers, but Josh locks eyes with Tyler momentarily before he tilts his head. "Care to join me?" Tyler nods, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. He smiles as he dips his foot to the water, slipping in with Josh. Tyler sits in the water opposite of Josh, they share silence. It's comfortable. They can work with this.

 

Tyler leans foreword, cupping Josh's face in his hands and rubbing his thumb over Josh's awkward stubble. "Why are you so tense?" He uses his left hand to firmly press Josh's shoulder down, calming his subtly. "…don't be like that." He purses his lips. "Don't be the monster underneath my bed."

 

"I can't help it." Josh mumbles under his breath, is met with a kiss and a softer cup of his face in Tyler's palm. "…and I can't help falling in love with you. And I help falling. Just  _falling._ I'm going to hit the ground and oh god, Tyler. It's going to  _hurt."_ He pushes into Tyler's shoulder, breathing hitching. 

 

"Focus on me." Tyler mumbles, running his hands through Josh's hair. He takes a deep breath. "It's me. You know me. You knew us. He's gone. I'm not. We're okay. We're alright."

 

"Who's 'He'?"

 

"The one the numbers belonged to." Tyler deadpans, slowly. Pointing to the red lines. "The one who made those." He breathes silently, Josh watching his scrawny as hell chest rise and fall with each breath. "….words hurt. Three words hurt him and that's that. Your three words meant his defeat. I think the numbers were there because you would've said those words. Those words that ended him." Tyler says it as though it's nothing. He shrugs, the bathwater rippling around his body. 

 

"If 'he's the one who the numbers belonged to, then where are your numbers?" Josh inquires, stepping out of the bath. Tyler follows, drying themselves off in the towels and laying for a while in the bed, Tyler occasionally peppering Josh's face with kisses.  _"What are you?"_

* * *

**X**

He prefers to top often, but it's not illegal to be a bottom sometimes. 

 

And boy, is it a blessing to be one.

 

Easing into Josh's touch, Tyler groans. Josh goes slow, their mixtape playing on the stereo as he moves. Heat pools in his stomach. Thrusting painfully slow, Tyler is going to die at the pace. He bites his lip softly, not enough to hurt and certainly not enough to draw blood. His face blushes red when Josh speeds up. Like a waiting queue, then comes the actual part Tyler has been waiting for. He pins down Tyler's arms, the bed beginning to shake under them and Josh laughs as Josh's breathing hitches. Tyler purses his lips, biting and fighting the urge not to scream. Josh reaches to grab his arms, grabbing the already loose headboard and snickering when he tells Josh not to move his hands from it. He balls his fist in the sheet, white knuckles shoved in his mouth, under the bite of his teeth.

 

He gives Tyler a coy grin, the brunet chokes out a moan in response because  _fuck,_ when Josh wears his snapback backwards during sex,  _that's_ what's going to be the death of Tyler. Blue numbers might as well spindle right now. The bottle of lube is tipped over on the counter, spilling out profusely, leaking on the bottom of the condom box. Josh doesn't care though.

 

He laughs at how tight Tyler is, especially since they've done this earlier and a few weeks ago. Doesn't matter, because as Josh thinks about it, he hits that  _one special spot_ and Tyler screams. Releasing all over his stomach and Josh's. His heart is shouting to catch some air, he might have heart palpitations. The headboard snaps, falling behind the bed as Josh laughs. He thrusts shallowly, groans, feeling himself let go inside Tyler. "Jesus fuck, that feels _so_  good, Babe." He pants as Tyler stares idle at the headboard on the floor. He points to it, Josh follows Tyler's finger.

 

"Are we going to pay for that?"

 

"Fuck no." Josh laughs at Tyler's question. Tyler seems puzzled, but Josh continues laughing. "I'm laughing because you actually thought we would pay for that." 

 

"It's the  _law,_ Josh." 

 

"We don't even live in this state!"

 

"Does that matter?"

 

"Not really, but let's be honest. Do  _you_ honestly think we were going to abide by the law?" Tyler hums in response, shrugging and smiling as Josh kisses his neck. Leaving a few marks so the world will know he's  _Josh's sweetheart._ He belongs to Josh and Josh belongs to Tyler.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually didn't mean to alarm so many people. This chapter may have been graphic because you know, Josh ate soap but thats about it.
> 
> Leave me comments because it boosts my self esteem.


	3. 「 III 」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad because I came up with this pick up line and I don't have anywhere to put it in the story and It was so so good and--
> 
> the struggle.

**XI**

_"Pick your poison, sweetheart."_ Josh grins, pointing a few steps further behind Tyler. The younger man moves back, stepping on the linoleum tile of the brightly lit rainbow barf store. Josh tosses the gummy shark, scoring in Tyler's mouth as they listen to the light chatter of the mall patrons. They're in King of Prussia mall as of now, early morning and Josh has only seen 3 fairly close blue numbers. He can work with this right now. The candy shop is quiet, nobody eats candy for breakfast. 

 

_Unless your name is Tyler Robert Joseph and Joshua William Dun._

 

"….when I was younger, I had this fantasy of Hide and Seek in this really big mall." Tyler begins, Josh pulls another shark from the cellophane bag.  "Aunt Katherine invited us over for the weekend and she took us to Mall of America." He grins, Josh loves the way red creeps up Tyler's face when he thinks of a good memory. "Jay bet me 5 dollars to play hide and seek with him while Zach took Maddy to American Girl." He laughs, almost falling over. "And I was so stupid. I fuckin' took the money and goddamn  _bolted,_ I hid in a Boarders bookstore all the way across the mall. It took an hour and a half for me to get there and I made a B-line to the back next to the romance novels and I sat there for hours, occasionally leaving for a coloring book or sip at the water fountain." He shakes his head, laughing as Josh swings his arm around his shoulders the way he always does. "….then the mall closed and I had my first panic attack that day, alone in a bookstore, crying to myself and playing with puppets. Then he--" Tyler stops. He knows exactly how this story ends.

 

_Then 'he' came. He arrived with sweet words, drying my tears and telling me it's okay. A pulled hoodie, shadow covering the face but I could make out red glowing eyes in the darkness. Pulled a storybook off the shelf, sitting against the bookshelf opposite of me. I don't know what I expected, a voice that was darker than my father's? A squeal higher than my classmates on helium? I guess not, but the former was correct. Told me his name was Blurryface, he cared what I thought because as of that moment, I was a 5 year old trapped alone in a bookstore with his demons playing house and his ideas as an adversary. Then he read me the storybook. Candyland, I think it was. Roses are red, Violets are blue. Love is for children. Never for you! Who are you really? Hide behind a mask of your disguise but a loser when it comes for you to meet your demise?_

 

_Said I would fall in love one day and find my prince Kyle, I laughed. He didn't. **Said that my love would rip apart the universe; shatter a paradox!** Silly Blurryface. And once the police finally found me, they asked why I was talking to myself._

 

_Was I?_

 

 _And Blurry sung me pretty sounds inside my head with my counterpart. Danced to the lullabies and told me the dark things, torrent things. Became me! Hell, he was--he was my best friend. The one who asked me to play with tan knives, red lines, look to the blue sky!_ _  
_

 

_Tan, Red, Blue._

 

 

"--the officers found me." Tyler covers, pulling a little hard on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He turns around, Josh's note left on the bench. 

 

 _Wanna play hide and seek?_ Tyler grins, looking around, trying to find flames for hair through his local dreamer eyes. He smiles wide, swinging and darting across the mall as he clutches the note. He thinks of Blurry's words.  **Your love is going to rip apart the universe. Rip apart my heart, the world is waiting.**

 

What love would rip apart the universe Tyler didn't know. Didn't care. His love for Josh, his love  _with_ Josh was all he needed. May they never be torn apart, separated. And though they never be apart, who says Tyler and Josh may not rip apart the universe? Love is quite a dangerous thing. 

* * *

**XII**  

"Do you think Josh and Tyler are coming back tomorrow?" Pete lays on his stomach, Patrick straddling his back and lazily watching the television. The scent of popcorn lingers in the air, blurred voices echo. Patrick hums a song, something about ice cream headaches and sweet avalanches. "…isn't your prescription due some time this month?"

 

"Glasses?" He questions, nodding in response. Pete hums as answer. Normal conversations, easier than going on unimportant dates where you talk to yourself more than your date. No matter how long they've been together. No matter how much they've done together. Pete smiles, thinking about just how close he was to death without meeting Patrick. 

 

"…are you going to Brendon's party?" Pete inquires, Patrick is taken aback. 

 

"What party?"

 

"….oh. I--I was gonna go to Brendon's party. You know? Brendon U, from AP Lit?" Patrick nods, feeling something burn inside of him. 

 

"I don't like him."  _Way to become defensive._ He rolls his eyes, Pete stops and sits up, Patrick rolls off him on his back. "…I know him, you've just been hanging out with him a lot lately. I--maybe you shouldn't go to the party." He scratches his back, Pete narrows his eyes. 

 

"…and you don't like him because….?"

 

"You've just been hanging out with him a lot now and it feels like you're not--you won't--you haven't--"

 

"You're stuttering because you don't have a reason." Pete crosses his arms, Patrick does the same and backs on the bed. "…what's up with that lately? You haven't wanted me to do anything at all lately. Nothing. I can't stay and be your dime piece boyfriend. I have to have a life."

 

"I know that. You just--" He takes a deep breath. "You've been talking about  _him_ more than anything now; your new best friend?" He scoffs, Pete cringes. "Don't be so possessive, Stump." He scowls, Patrick raises his hands in defeat.

 

"Forget I said anything. Go to the party, _sweetheart."_   He says it sickly sweet, cyanide and sugar cookies. Easy bake oven that's been caught on fire and set by an arsonist in a house to look like an accident. What a fire, Petey! It's unfortunate you fell in love with the arsonist. 

 

"I'll stay here if you really don't want me to go." 

 

"No.  _Go._ " He yearns, Pete feels horrible. Like leaving a gerbil for a week, alone. Patrick can't take care of himself. 

 

"….if I take you with me, will you be happy?" Patrick stays silent, quietly breathing but exhausted as silence stands between the pair on opposites of the bed.

* * *

 

**XIII**

"Catch me if you can, Joseph!" Josh's voice carries on through the empty mall, Tyler wonders why it's so empty now. Why is it so desolate? His Vans hit the floor with each step, light on the ground as he twirls and dances to find his lover in corners of the mall. He races past Disney Store, Lego and turns the corner of the Zales Jewelers. He likes wide open spaces like this, places where he can run, jump and shout as he pleases. Too much energy untapped over the years with Blurryface and yet, the first time he felt alive was when he locked eyes with Josh for the first time. _{Note: Tyler actually said that himself.}_

 

"Oh Joshua!" He sings out in falsetto, grinning when he looks around precariously and proceeds to climb the bannisters of the mall. "Spiderman is coming for you!" He shouts with glee, gripping the silver bar and pulling himself up. "I should climb things more often." He mumbles to himself, clinging onto the pole and scoping the floor, looking out. Flames for hair is nowhere to be seen but Tyler doesn't give up. He whistles, hearing a whistle is return and an 'oh fuck!' echo in the distance, knowing that when he whistles, Josh has a second nature to reply the same way. "I don't know where you are!" Tyler shouts, playful as he scales more bars.

 

"You'll have to come and find me!"  _find me_ echoes and Tyler feels his face go pale when he hears a third party. Another voice. 

 

 _"Kid! Get down from there!"_ He's got sleek black hair, mall security navy blue uniform. Tyler panics, raising his arms higher until he climbs over the bannister and lands his feet on the linoleum floor of the mall. Too bad the officer is bolting up the stairs and  _god damn_ that man is fit. Tyler squeaks, fleeing and sliding down a bar. to the second floor. 

 

"HEY FLAMES FOR HAIR!" He shouts as he runs, voice resounding and cascading like an avalanche among the mall. Tyler runs past a flag, it doesn't move from wind. It seems to be frozen actually, but he disregards that as the officer gains up. Tyler trips, falling head over heels, tumbling down the escalator and it hits him.  _There are only 3 people in this mall._ To his knowledge anyway, but the shops are open. Nobody is in them. There are no people gossiping down the way, no babies crying, no old women wandering around for cat toys, nobody at all. No PDA teenagers, nothing. He scrambles, climbing up the bar and the officer is calling in backup.

 

 _"This is officer Iero with a bannister climber at 2 o'clock. Way, Way, Toro, Hurley."_ He nods, Tyler shrieks when his leg is yanked and he's pulled from the bannister. A candle shop, flames for hair standing above clutching the local dreamer's pant leg. Josh smiles his patented Josh Dun smile and points to the roof with no words. He opens the storage room of the candle shop, it smells like the 40th day of 2nd grade in 1995. Tyler would make a candle of it. But nobody would buy it, maybe Zach. They have the same sense of smell anyway. Josh climbs first, Tyler meeting him on the snowy roof of the mall. Josh sits, Tyler sits.

 

They sits opposite of each other, smiling as they hear the commotion from the mall underneath and Tyler uses the sleeve of his sweatshirt to clear some snow caked on top away from the ceiling window of the mall. He leans in, looking through to the officers looking around for him and Josh. The brunet laughs, breath looming out in the cold weather. Josh smiles, eyes crinkling just a little at the side while Tyler is having the time of his life.  _What a wonderful man,_ Josh thinks. Seeing June 7th spindle on his wrist. 

* * *

**XIV**

 

 

Pete and Patrick sing in the car, a harmony together while Patrick songs a song called "Watch a catch, Donnie." In the car, it's rapid movements, lights blurring as they pass by. Pete is worried, he ponders whether he should say something. "We're moving fast, Pete. We--we should slow down." He whispers, Pete grins and speeds up more. Patrick feels sick, fighting back the cinder blocks in the pit of his stomach.

 

Somewhere, Josh knows. He _knows_ something is wrong. Intuition! Yes! Intuition hurts horribly. Like a loud crash, broken symphony. Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny. He scrambles to his cell phone, calling Pete. Something awakens within him, Tyler's heart momentarily stops when he sees the panic course through Josh's eyes and can hear his heart about to beat out of his chest. Josh closes his eyes, shielding the brown lenses from the wall he previously devoted his time to observing. "PETE!" He almost cries into the phone, crying because this gross feeling doesn't broil within him unless someone is about to die. He hasn't felt it since--

 

Tyler.

  

Pete answers, slowing drastically just for him and Patrick to see the tractor trailer zoom by the intersection ahead of them, careening across the pavement, spinning like a pirouette before steering back to the road ahead. Patrick's jaw drops when the cars stop around, the world is almost stopping. Freeze frame, take a picture, flash, smile your best.

 

"Babe..…" Pete drops the phone.

 

_"Pete, that's could've been us."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter reminds me of that Mikky Ekko song 'Who are you really?' 
> 
> I fuckin' love that song.


	4. 「 IV 」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So dysfunctional. So crazy. So torrid. So horrible.

ssoɹ uɐʎɹ puɐ əıɹn uopuəɹq ʎq əɔuɐɹɐəddɐ pəlnpəɥɔsun ʎlsnoıʌəɹd ɐ ɹoɟ [ʇsɐɔpɐoɹq](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Je7SPYOw9Vk) ɹnoʎ ƃuıʇdnɹɹəʇuı ɹoɟ əzıƃolodɐ əʍ

 

**XV**

Glasses. Angels and demons wear glasses. People wear glasses. They are humans, they are supernatural, they are breathing and they have problems seeing. What do they have to prove? Everything, man. Every single fuckin' thing in existence because glasses don't make people smarter, they don't make people nerds, they sure as hell don't make people more interesting. They are there to ensure you don't send nudes to your grandmother because you couldn't see the name of the text chat.

 

Brendon wears glasses, and Ryan is extremely sure that Brendon is the angel in this situation. Though, Ryan's never  _met_ Brendon, so he cannot be the one to judge. A screen on a computer, words either of them type, deciding who's the outcast and who's semi-known within their class. Ryan is aware of brown hair, thick framed glasses, subtle stubble on his face, a smile worthy of an Academy Award and a personality conflicted between brighter than the sun and darker than the soul of a teenager going through their scene phase. The angel that sings to him when he's sad, cares about his mental state but doesn't stop talking to him just because he hasn't been outside in years.  _"I wear a hug jacket."_ Ryan once told Brendon, Brendon knew what it meant.  _"_ _…and that's okay."_ Brendon replied and for once Ryan felt normal.

 

 _Brendon is typing_ _….._

 

_Hey Ryan? I might be offline for a little while. party, you know?_

 

_…._

 

_I get it._

 

_you'll be fine without me for a while, right?_

 

_yep._

 

 _okay, good._ Brendon hesitates before typing and pressing send.  _love you._

 

_love you too._

 

Brendon was told the internet is a dangerous place. Horrible people who want to use his face, trick others, hurt him, kill him, troll, burn, destroy him. The only person who gets him is a boy across the country named George Ryan Ross. Hell, Brendon would be lying if he agreed with his parents harsh views about the internet and internet friends.

 

Although Ryan is the only one who gets Brendon, he is also locked up in a room with no windows, nothing but padded walls and it dons on Brendon that if the only person who gets him is currently held in a straitjacket, then perhaps he should evaluate his own mental state. Because Brendon is worse than Ryan.

 

If Ryan is insane, Brendon is a basketcase. He just might be actually. 

 

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to." He whispers, logging off and closing his eyes. "…conceal don't feel." He recites words from Frozen, words he lives by. Conceal your feelings, conceal your life, conceal your facade. Conceal who you are because if they find something they don't like. They will riot. They will judge.

 

They will all be the judge and they won't set him free.

 

Thank you for your time. This special broadcast interruption is over.

* * *

**XVI**

"Insanity is a virtue because it shows the little cogs inside our brains that can only move when they mesh together. If one cog breaks, the others fall apart which is why all different parts of my moods rely on each other to function." Josh takes a drag of the blunt and passes it to Tyler. "…if I'm feeling moody, that's a broken cog and because I'm feeling moody, my other cogs are trying to cheer me up but I can't, because it takes a piece of me to be moody and that piece is needed to cheer me up. My brain is sick and that--that's okay." Josh sits back in his seat, the bedroom dark but it's okay. His family doesn't know he's home yet, he decides getting stoned with Tyler is a pretty good idea. I mean, he's not wrong.

 

He smiles, Tyler yawns and closes his eyes. He rests his head on Josh's shoulder, Josh pulls him close. "….cogs….like a clock." Tyler mumbles, yawning again and struggling to stay awake. "…you used that because of the numbers. The numbers you see. The little blue clocks." Tyler says hazily, humming a song to himself. Borderline chilling, hazy, scary, crying or happily in the sickly sweet way. Like a toddler that's just murdered their parents. Pigtails covered in blood. Or like Josh when he was kicked out of boy scouts. A busted lip, bloody sly grin showing baby teeth and bloody uniform. So perfect. So bloody. "…I never had the numbers to be honest. Blurry had 'em. That's why mom would read me Candyland to calm down when I would have flashes. Then Blurry read me Candyland. Made it a trigger so when mom read it, it'd make me even worse." He shrugs, falling asleep on Josh. "Wanted me dead..…" Tyler whispers before his breathing is elevated, steady and Josh is left wondering alone in the darkness. 

 

"Who the hell is Blurry?" He looks to Tyler's sleeping frame. "…and why does he want Tyler dead?" He picks up the brunet, bridal style of course, and lays him down on the bed. He crawls into the bed slowly, laying down beside his local dreamer and running his hands through his flames for hair. He plays with his hands for a while, thinking about the other night.  _"Maybe I should get another bar of soap."_ He hesitates, thinking precarious thoughts and remembering what his point was. He takes a deep breath. Talking to Tyler rather than God. "…why the hell do you make feel feelings that I haven't been able to comprehend. What's a 'Flash'? Why do they have triggers? Who's Blurry? What causes Flashes? Are they dangerous? Tyler you're leaving me with nothing here. You don't know what you do to me. It hurts. You might be hurting and I don't know! I don't know…" He whispers, feeling empty. Tyler's chest rises and falls slowly, breathing to compromise. "….I love you, but I have to know. What is it about you that makes me sweat? Should I be worried?" Josh looks to his wrist, heart leaping out his frail chest when the numbers dial down like a bomb. 

 

 _June 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2,_ _1_

_May 31, 30, 29, 28, 27_

_??????????????????????????_

 

Blue numbers reduce to question marks in a haze and Josh snatches his wrist to stop it. The number spasm for a while, going to dates and strange days that Josh can't comprehend.

 

_February 31st_

_June 49th_

_October -13th_

 

Until they spindle and stop at June 7th, 2016. The year fades away, returning to 2019, 2089, 2045, 3000. No year appears after the latter, Josh feels it rise up his throat. He's going throw up numbers. Maybe. Or maybe he's--what the fuck?

 

Like a magician. Josh is like a magician. _Trippy_. The tied cloth, rainbow satin cloth through his throat until it all falls out. Around a mile and Josh is mortified. The voice comes behind him first, turning around to red glowing eyes in the darkness. A toothy smirk like a Cheshire Cat in the darkness.  _"Hey Sweetheart."_ The grin grows wider, a finger is put under Josh's chin, tilting upwards. The voice isn't Tyler's. It's dark. _I didn't know what I expected, a voice that was darker than my father's? A squeal higher than my classmates on helium? I guess not, but the former was correct._

 

Red eyes, Blue shirt, Tan skin. Red, Blue, Tan.

 

Josh is shaking, moving back on the bed before he hits the wall. _"That's a Flash, Sweetheart."_ He snickers, Josh doesn't think it's funny. It climbs the wall, it sure as hell isn't Tyler.  _"I had numbers. I really did. But you can't kill lil' ol' me."_ Josh is mesmerized, going against his better judgement and following the demon to the roof. Tyler sits in a chair, Josh thinks it's Tyler. Not the monster with Flashes. _"I make you go insane. I Flash, you cry. You eat soap, you throw up, you play hide and seek. You cut off one head and two more grow back in it's place."_ It stands atop the roof, looking over to the hazy December moon. Josh stands behind it.  _"You wanted to know. So I will tell you."_ He hands Josh a copy of Candyland, Josh holds it in his palm.  _"My name is Blurryface_ _…."_ It begins to run, gripping to shingles of the house and leaping off, Josh runs to look over the edge. Nothing lays below. Behind him he hears the tickle, whisper in his ear.  _"_ _ʞuᴉɥʇ noʎ ʇɐɥʍ ǝɹɐɔ I puɐ"_

 

Then he's gone, rain beginning to ascend and Josh is left alone with a copy of Candyland. "Oh my god." He says, reality hitting him in the cold. _"Oh my god."_

* * *

**XVII**

Pete stumbles with Patrick in his grip, whispering sweet words littered with Vodka breath. A red solo cup in Patrick's hand, unidentifiable alcohol sloshing in the plastic. Patrick doesn't care for his drink, he really wishes he stayed inside his house. Pete should've stayed home. They both could've watched Space Jam and slept in each other's grip. 

 

"Hand me the key.. _sssss_ ……I'ma drive us home." He slurs, words coming out broken like someone took a hammer to a solid chocolate bar. When he says it, numbers begin to shape.

 

"No…Pete, no." Patrick shakes his head, dumping the cup's contents on the floor. "…you can't drive, you're drunk." He defends, taking out the keys and beeping for the car. His intentions are pure, numbers resume to their original stature. He searches through the darkness, rainbow lights blaring from the house make him feel gross. He resorts to driving home. 

 

"Petey Sweety…" He snickers, Patrick is unamused. 

 

"You're Pete, I'm Patrick. Remember?" He tries reasoning like an adult explaining to a 4 year old. "You're not driving us home. Stop trying." He rolls his eyes, Pete gurgles before hurling on the grass. "You're in no condition to drive. Case closed." He taps the button, hearing the faint yelp of the car in the distance. He follows the sound. 

 

"You--you're such a buzzkill." He groans. "Always wanting to do something good. There's no fun in doing what you're told. Goody Two Shoes Patty Stump." He rolls his eyes, stumbling to stand upright. "Fuck it. You're boring and possessive."

 

"Pete, you don't mean that. You're drunk." He takes a step back, his lover hunched over. He hyperventilates, Pete goes on. 

 

"Of course I mean it. You didn't even want me goin' to this sick as frick party. You don't like anybody that I meet, ya' never lemme go out. When will you ever let me out of your sight? You know what, Patty? You--you're like my headphones. You always get tangled up in things and when I finally figure you out! When I finally untangle you, you're okay. We're okay. You stay okay for a while and I leave you unattained and you go get tangled again! I don't get you, Stump."

 

"Nobody gets me, Pete." He smiles sickly sweet, Pete feels fairly uneasy. "…we're so dysfunctional that nobody knows whether we're getting married or dying before we do! We--"

 

"Patrick…" Pete tries to reason, stuttering from the cold. He's sobering, Patrick can't take it.

 

 _"Peter."_ He holds up his hand, lowering each finger until one remains. "Watch my middle finger rise, Wentz. Watch my. Middle. Finger. Rise." He grins, Pete lunges towards him. Tumblign to the grass, Patrick is trying to fight. He can't fight. He's just really weak. Like  _really weak._ Pete though, Pete could kill a man with his bare hands. With the way he's choking Patrick he actually might kill him. Actually might be the reason those itty bitty blue numbers are weaving their way onto Patrick's wrist, timer. Tick. Tock. Semi erotic asphyxiation, if you will. Patrick coughs, choking out his last few breaths until Pete lets go. Numbers stopping and rewinding, actually extending longer. ~~2067~~ 2079\. Maybe it's because Pete's never going to let him out of his sight. Maybe he'll be more protective. Maybe he'll grip Patrick and never ever let him go.

 

As Pete steps back, Patrick laying on the ground trying to adjust his breathing…that's when it hits.  _I could've killed him. He could've died. I almost killed my boyfriend. Oh my fucking god._ He steps back, thinking about the things that could've happened. So while Josh is left alone on a rooftop clutching a book, Pete is left standing by his lover's body. Neck bruised and it wasn't from hickeys.  _Oh my god._

 

Now, if only Josh could find Tyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Josh's view on insanity fucked me up because I'm 13 and this entire story is like a 64 box of crayons.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: THERE IS A REMIX CALLED HEAVYDIRTYHOTLINEBLING ON SOUNDCLOUD BY ZACH HOCKER AND I CRIED IT IS THE BLESSED THING FOR MY LIFE LISTEN TO IT RIGHT NOW OR I WILL DIE THIS NEEDS TO BE SPREAD NOW. NOW I TELL YOU NOW!


	5. 「 V 」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are you, Tyler Joseph?
> 
> What are you hiding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +Semi NSFW scene between Blurry and Josh, though it doesn't go too far.
> 
> Just a filler chapter, I guess.

  **XVIII**

Pure wine. Thicker than wine. Blood. Red blood in a wine glass, steel blue ninja star flower crown and tan skin. Ninja stars digging and making him bleed, into the glass. Josh takes a step when he realizes Tyler cannot feel the blood. He takes a sip of the thick liquid, more drips into the glass and Josh throws up satin rainbow cloth again when he realizes that Tyler is drinking his own blood. This isn't Tyler. 

 

This is Blurry. This is pure, unadulterated Blurryface. 

 

Josh can't tell where he is. It's dark, Blurry sitting on a throne of bones, legs lazily slung over the left arm of the throne. Wine glass stem between his index and middle finger. Blue steel flower crown shining in the glow of candles. Josh could get up. He doesn't though. It's his choice as he doesn't break eye contact with the red glowing eyes. The toothy grin. It takes a sip of the blood, red blood seeping down those teeth. So sharp. So pointed. So lethal. Josh would like to rip one out and pop a balloon with it. Just because, you know? 

 

Blue numbers surge, but Josh can't tell the date. Numbers don't glow like Blurry's do.  _I guess it's time to be concerned._ He sets down the wind glass, licking the blood from his toothy grin.  _ **Don't you think the joker laughs at you?**  _The voice is low, grave as it stands. Slender body, red eyes. It moves towards Josh, fingers ghosting over his chin, neck and running the tip of it's index finger down Josh's back. Leaving goosebumps in it's wake. Hairs standing on end, breathing down Josh's neck. He can  _feel_ it's breath at the shell of his ear, warm, moist and to say the least,  _it's a turn on._ _ **Ha.**  _It snickers, deadpanned, apathetic and awful.  _ **Ha.**  _Josh tenses when it's finger brushes over his stomach, little bit of chub in it's grip.  _ **Ha.**  _Josh feels something tug at his pants, the belt slowly coming undone and snaking out of the loops of his jeans. The clatter of the buckle to the ground beside him rings. The button is slowly popped through the loop, breathing hitches.  _ **This makes little Joshie happy, doesn't it? He's real excited to see what Blurryface can do, aren't ya?**_ Josh arches into the touch, a slight moan escaping.  _ **That's a good boy. Such a good boy.**_  It coos, Josh feels guilty for enjoying the appraisal. He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. He sniffles a bit, soft tears leaking and he's honestly unsure why. What is it about Tyler, Blurryface, if we're honest. What makes Josh wants to cry? Throw up? Scream? Fuck? All at the same time? Such a cruel twist of emotions like a bent wire. Though you straighten out the wire, it is never fully linear. Small bumps and bends that can't come undone. Josh wants to curl up into a nice warm bed sheet after being outside in the cold. He wants to sleep with Tyler in his grip and never let go.

 

But that's not

                                  how 

                                                   things 

                                                                       will

                                                                                        play

                                                                                                          out.

 

 He knows it too. He purses his lips, letting tears fall from under his eyelashes. He swallows hard, a lump in his throat refusing to vacate. He bares his teeth, opens his eyes. _"Stop."_ Josh mutters under his breath; Blurry stands still. Hard as a rock, but not down south. Though his entire body is just…. _frozen?_ Josh sits up, observing the frozen being before him and poking through the hoodie, reaching but grabbing nothing. The toothy grin is there, Josh can feel the teeth. The glowing red eyes, thought Josh can't stomach it had he touched them. The candles glow, but they don't flicker. Josh looks up to the ceiling, a door frame and a door.  _Peculiar._ He needs to devise a plan to get out. He needs to think like Tyler. The real Tyler. 

 

What does Tyler do best?

 

 _Josh._ That's the first thing that comes to his mind. Because, albeit scrawny, _damn_ that boy can fuck.  _Complaining about Capitalism! Screaming!_   _Climbing!_ Josh thinks of next. There it goes. He needs a foot stool, not finding any but there's something stable enough to hold him.  _Blurryface._ Strange that it's Tyler's body, but Tyler isn't in it.  _What are you, Tyler Joseph? What are you hiding?_ Josh stands on the shoulders first, then the top of the head and feeling fairly guilty. Then in the corner of his eye, he sees the clock. Stopped. Nothing ticking and well, he realizes that Blurry isn't acting. The candles don't flicker for a reason. The clock doesn't tick. Blurry doesn't sing. He swings open the door, the doorknob falling and almost hitting him on the head. It falls into the room, but stops midair. Right beside Josh's shoe.

 

Josh crawls out, the city sidewalk around him. Damp air, rain. Things frozen under the door as he gets out and looks around to the brightest lights. Like looking around Times Square in a panorama.  _Oh,_ Josh thinks.  _Oh my god._ He pulls the copy of Candyland from the back of his hoodie. Hands running over the matte finish of the colorful cover. The golden binding reminiscent of a Little Golden Book.

 

So he realizes something important. Something vital. The bikers stay in place on the street, the crystalized snow and rain droplets stay in place around him. Store doors don't shift. Snow glistens around him, don't fall, don't melt onto his beanie. Surrounding his surroundings. "Stop!" He shouts, bikes continuing. Resuming like the flicker of a pause button. Snow and rain falling to the ground, Blurry's words echoing from the door, car horns honk and ducks quack. 

 

 _"Stop!"_ He repeats, everything obliges. Blue numbers, timers too. Timers stopping, no more ticking. 

 

The it dons on him the oct important thing right now beside Blurryface.

 

Josh _can stop time._

* * *

**XIX**

"….did you mean what you said when you called me tangled like you headphones?" Patrick mumbles, Pete laying on the couch beside him. On his back, arm strewn across his forehead as if he's pretending to be astonished. Pete doesn't answer, instead he decides to mumble until Patrick grows agitated. He knows what he's done, he's sober now. Hurting just as much as Patrick, but that doesn't stop him from staying silent. "Peter. Answer me." Patrick states, anger subtle but no discreet.

 

"…I dunno, Stump. I--I was drunk and I--"

 

"And you what? You wanted to hurt me? Because NEWS FLASH! You did." Patrick narrows his eyes, Pete biting his bottom lip in embarrassment. "Why are you embarrassed? What the hell, Wentz? What the bloody fuckin' hell? Are you afraid of something?"

 

"…you." Pete says clearly, Patrick leans back. 

 

"What?"

 

"You. scare. me. I am afraid of all the possessive bullshit you do. You never want to stand by me. You're always getting clingy!" He shakes his head, Patrick wants to punch him in the throat. Patrick stands up, crying but rolling his eyes. "I want to be my own person, Stump. I want to do things by my fuckin' self and I can't if you're always dragging me down! Don't be that person, Patty. Don't." 

 

"By yourself." Patrick mumbles, grinning a little, teeth biting his tongue. "…that means you'll be single." Pete snaps his eyes open, fear and panic racing through his blood and veins. 

 

"What?" He says it incredulously, shocked and now coming to terms with what he's just said."…no, Patty no."

 

"I'm leaving." he grins, Pete stumbles to his feet to follow Patrick. "I am sorry I drag you down. Maybe I'll crash with Josh tonight. If he's not with Tyler." Patrick states calmly, Pete wants to take it back. It's like a lifeboat and all the storms are approaching at once, he'll hug his knees, cry and scream. The tiniest lifeboat. The lifeboat can't hold on in roaring rapids.  _Sorry, Wentz._ His hand on the door knob. Pete throw his sweater at him, trying to calm down.

 

"You’re going to get sick, it’s cold outside. Wear a sweater."

 

He turned around, staring Pete straight in the eyes.

 

"I’m already sick from looking at you and it’s cold in here too, considering there’s a shit-ton of ice in your heart." He laughs, sick but enticing. "I’m surprised I haven’t gotten hypothermia yet." 

  
He slammed the door. Pete stands catatonic, steadying his breathing and heart rate. Fighting back tears before sitting on the couch, staring at the door. Waiting for him to back. He didn’t.

* * *

**XX**

"Stop! _Stop!_ Stop! _Stop!_ Stop!" Josh laughs, abusing his power and running through town. Wind in his flames for hair, red locks shuffling under his beanie. Seeing people stop, move, stop, move and freeze. Twisting time but feeling something breathe down his back. Brunet hair peeking through a beanie much like his own, tan skin holding his hand, a smile. Honest smile, not toothy, blood red and sickly sweet. It's funny how much has changed, but Josh notices one thing. He still has scars from the blade crown. Forehead stained with red on tan skin, blue beanie. Pure honest eyes, not glowing red. 

 

"Hey, Sweetheart!" Tyler grins, rubbing his hand over Josh's hair. 

 

"How'd you get out?" 

 

"Get out of what?" He pops a few M&M's in his mouth, grinning while he eats them. "…where Blurryface was?"

 

"What?" Tyler rolls his eyes, Josh calms down. Seeing the door embedded into the sidewalk. "…you sound B.S crazy, dude." He kisses Josh's cheek, the scent of chocolate lingers. His local dreamer jumping around him, more energy than usual and Josh finds this precarious. He holds the books in his hand, he still hasn't opened it. Maybe he should read it. Perhaps that's important. He shrugs, Tyler runs up ahead. Josh admires the view, not Tyler's ass, just Tyler. His energy, his excitement. Him in general. "Oh my gosh, Josh. I found this thing called Shrimp in a Bag, good god. Josh, it was sick as frick." Tyler nods, running across the street and around the bend. Only Tyler's sprinting footsteps are heard echoing around the bend. Josh smiles. It's like they're the only two in the world right now. No cars passing by, not noise. Just him and Tyler.

 

But it hits Josh like a train. As the rest of the world freezes, Tyler doesn't. Tyler dances around Josh while the world stands still. He opens the book, reading through to wonder why it's so significant. Why was Tyler, well,  _Tyler_ and why was Josh  _Prince Kyle?_ He flips through the picture book. The story going through the magical land of Candyland and it's inhabitants. In which there only seems to be two. 

 

Prince Kyle and Tyler.

 

_Prince Kyle sat down, and made Tyler frown. He did not like this one bit._

_Prince Kyle made Tyler sit, cross his arms and use his wit._

_Save the princess? Or save the prince?_

_Tyler would not be hard to convince._

_So Kyle stopped time, flipped a coin, a dime and made Tyler wonder._

_A wonder of what was under the throne,_

_What was it made of? stones and bones?_

_Was Prince Kyle a bad guy?_

_Tyler did not want to say goodbye._

_He ate the poisoned candy cane, Prince Kyle did so too._

_They died hand in hand, no one had a clue._

_In the castle of Candyland,_

_their deaths were quite grand._

_Tyler and Kyle had become one._

_So their ghost sit and watch the sun._

 

Josh drops the book, unsure where Tyler's gone. "Holy shit." Josh now comes to terms. Kyle stopped time and died to be with Tyler. Candyland is a facade that not everything is perfect on the inside. Josh might have to die. If not, Josh might just rip apart the universe.

 

_What are you Tyler Joseph? What are you hiding?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a fanfic where Josh got drafted into the Skeleton War after his wedding to Tyler. 
> 
> I should probably post it.


	6. W͙̤̻͔͚̩̤e̲͉̝͖̟̱͔͝l͇̣c͇̜͕͎̕o͘m̨̫̻e͝ ̱͙͇t͎̰͎͇o҉ ̩̱̝̤͠t̲͘ḫ̘͚̫e͇̖ ̨̫I̢̫̰͍̟N̶T̷E̤̼R҉̤̼͚̬̺̣̦M̠̰͎I̝͎͝S̲̝̱S̥̮̯̣͖̤ͅI̞̟͓̟̘̥O͍̜̣͉̹N̨͎

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> W͙̤̻͔͚̩̤e̲͉̝͖̟̱͔͝l͇̣c͇̜͕͎̕o͘m̨̫̻e͝ ̱͙͇t͎̰͎͇o҉ ̩̱̝̤͠t̲͘ḫ̘͚̫e͇̖ ̨̫I̢̫̰͍̟N̶T̷E̤̼R҉̤̼͚̬̺̣̦M̠̰͎I̝͎͝S̲̝̱S̥̮̯̣͖̤ͅI̞̟͓̟̘̥O͍̜̣͉̹N̨͎
> 
>  
> 
> Th͙̻͖e̮̼ ̖̭̮̩̘͖H̡̙͙͇̖̟a̫p̶͇͇̪̦p͢i̢͈e̵̺̤s͈̮̰͠t̪̤̝̜͖̤̙ ҉̪Pl͖̮̻̜̺a̪̮̭̱̩̤c̜̘͜e̮̼͕ ̨i̼͎̦͘n̡̩̳̳̤̮ t̖̲͓̰̩͇h̬̻̹͓͘è̝̭̬ ̵͚U͉͈̻̯ņ̮̞̱̖̳ḭ̠͙̘̯̖v̧͖͈̖e̴̠r̸̬s̸e̱̟͎͡
> 
>  
> 
> Brendon and Ryan never get any attention.
> 
> How about we change that?

_"Color me impressed."_ Ryan grins, snickers at the fluorescent computer screen in front of him. "…you did it." He looks up through dark bangs, Brendon on the other side of the screen clutching an impressively large 'R'. 

 

"I did it for you, babe." He smiles, tapping the letter as it shorts out and the light flickers. He caresses the letter, albeit sexually but he grin while he does it. "…I suppose the town doesn't have a Walmart anymore. But 'WalMat' should suffice." He cackles, Ryan bares his teeth lovingly. 

 

"You're so perfect." Ryan reaches out to touch the screen between them, Brendon gasps when he sees. 

 

"Baby, you got the jacket off…." He gasps in awe, Ryan nods, approving the appraisal. "…but for how long?" Ryan teeters on his seat, thinking about what he's done to get the jacket off. Knives at a neck, slowly sliding across like he's playing an orchestral suite with a violin bow. Elegance. Poise. Equally satisfying when the body drops. If he can escape long enough to murder them before they put it back on, then it's only a short matter of time before he escapes the entire place. Nevada Playhouse Asylum is no place for a boy like Ryan. The concept of time is lost as he sits with Brendon. The brunet of the two lights a cigarette, blowing a kiss to the camera and Ryan smiles as he catches it. 

 

"How ever long I want it." He shrugs in response to Brendon's question, thoughts looming around like lead balloons. "….like when it's my birthday and they let me take off the jacket, eat some cake and play with some balloons." He smiles, showing all his teeth and Brendon swoons again. 

 

"Your smile is so perfect." He rests his head in his palm, eyeing Ryan with doe eyes. Like how Flynn Rider looks at Rapunzel. Or how Carl looks at Ellie.

 

"…thanks." He mumbles, putting a longer hair behind his ear and looking shyly to his lap. Brendon sees the blood on Ryan's nimble fingers, he slows his breathing. Calming when he sees it as a form of protection. Protection because when he finally meets Ryan face to face, he'll be able to look him in the eyes. Not through a camera and realize that Ryan is ruthless. His ruthless sweetheart that in not afraid to kill someone.  _If you get between someone I love and me, you're gonna feel the heat of my calvary._  

 

"Why'd you dust off the snuffers?" Brendon points behind Ryan, to the bodies as they lay. 

 

"They wanted to do tests on me." He shrugs. "Hug jacket me. So I got very, very mad." He says it innocently, like sugary sweet cake and homicidal tendencies. "…and I took the the sharpest point…" He holds up the knife, Brendon recognizes it from Ryan's birthday when he threw the knife to the wall and popped the balloons on it. "…and I played the violin with their neck as the instrument and my lovely parter here as the bow." He Vanna White presents it, Brendon loves him and everything about him. He shakes his head, setting down the 'R' and watching, shudders run up his spine and arousal blurring within when Ryan licks the blood off the flat side of the knife. "Though, I wouldn't mind if you gave me a test." He whispers, purring a little and Brendon feels his pants tighten. He could jerk off right now to this, blood kink going strong. But he takes a deep breath, reminded of something he wanted to ask Ryan. 

 

"What kind of test?" He deadpans, Ryan gets the hint.

 

"Psychological evaluations or somethin'." Ryan mumbles, frown tugged to the left of his mouth, but a semi-warm smile on the right. As if he's trying to be happy, rolling with the punches like someone made a joke when he cries. He shrugs, lips part to expose the bottom of his top teeth. A hazy smile is still a smile, and Brendon would be the first in line to see it. 

 

Even if he's the only one.

 

"Hey Ryan…" The brunet mumbles, pushing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He observes the small box of crayons behind his lover. A small smile tugs at his lips. "…draw me a monster." Preparing to do a psychological evaluation if everybody else around Ryan is dead, bleeding onto the floor of Nevada Playhouse.

 

Ryan, albeit taken aback, obeys. He snatches the box and tilts his head to Brendon in the other view of the camera. He purses his lips and doodles on the paper, blue crayon over white. He could erase, but the paper is still tainted. Oddly, he doesn't know what it is. Whether the line on it's face represents a smile is anybody's game. He looks at the finished product, thumb grazing over the edges when he picks it up delicately and turns it around to show Brendon in the camera. Brendon tilts his head, it looks _human._ It looks _inhuman_. It's got red flames for hair, a blue shirt, something reminiscent of a five o'clock shadow. A blue, green constellation on it's right arm. Brendon tilts his head, it reminds of somebody. He's seen it before. 

 

Ryan doodles something next to it. Brown curls, angular sharps in crayon to be fairly honest. Four black squares on it's arm. Two dots for eyes and a smiley face to match the one next to it. Black shirt, black lines running up the arm, stopping midway. Stick figures but they have shapes to represent clothing. Brendon knows it. Just doesn't remember. 

 

"….tell me, Sweetheart. You drew monsters. But what makes them monsters?" Ryan stops, beginning to think intently. "Draw Mike and Sulley. Sure they look scary to the children in the movie but not to us. Draw something green, black and blue. Give it horns for all I care, but what makes it a monster? It eats shoes? Pugs do that. We're not afraid of pugs. Jake's a pug. It roars? I've slept over at Pete's house enough to know that Patrick does that too when they're alone. _Loudly,_ I might add,  _and more high pitched."_ He adds, laughing under his breath."It's got glowing eyes? Animatronics at Disney World do too. Sharp teeth?" He raises his eyebrows, Ryan leans back and puts his hands in his lap. He swallows, taking a deep breath. Brendon tilts his gaze. "You've done so much, but when you draw a monster, what makes it a monster?"

 

They remain silent. Psychological evaluation taking a toll. Another pair falling apart.

 

_Another question?_

 

_Why do Ryan's monsters look like Tyler and Josh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermission because I wanted to write but I was too lazy to write a full chapter.
> 
> *Throws paper shavings as glitter* Some Ryden for you! 
> 
> I often do intermissions for most long term fics (I.E. Tyler and Josh vs. The World/IceBath/I don't want to be heard (I want to be listened to)/Here we go) and the time seemed right to be badass about it, so here you go with the fucked up font and badass mental asylum Ryan.


	7. 「 VI 」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *!!This chapter is possibly triggering. Stay safe, Kiddo!!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter because today has been a day.

Dirty. He feels dirty. He's not good enough and everything is spiraling around him. What is it about other people that seems to be better? They say we're all equal, but we're not. We really are not. Gross. It's all gross and it's every where. Coaxing the bad things and making us wish, hope, dream, pray, cry, scream, shout and want to burn. If we had everything we wanted, would we still be happy?

 

If you had the power to change the world, by using wishes. _Unlimited_ , mind you. Would you use it for better or worse? You see, the world is putty,  _Play-doh_ in your hands, if you will. Now the real question is, do you mold it into a gun? Or do you mold it into a flower? Lighting a match in the darkness, blowing out the flame and seeing nothing but torrent, pitch black darkness. An ember lighting and glowing, dark pastel illuminating your face. Stern look but simple stance. It's alright. It's alright. 

 

But this ain't for the faint of heart, darling. We know.  _We know you're not alright._

 

 

Tyler is everything Josh wants and hell yeah! He's happy but Tyler isn't Tyler. Tyler is Blurryface. Tyler is evil. Tyler is bad, bad, bad news. J.D to Josh's very unfortunate Veronica, but hey, who said we're killing people with Ich Luge bullets now? Josh closes his eyes, resting on the couch as Tyler dusts the top shelf, Josh's nose bleeding from the side effect of stopping time too often. Bloody lines draining down his shirt, intricate lines where the sun don't shine. He decides that between everything that's happened lately, something needs to lighten up or he's going to die. He shoves the paper farther up his nose and leans his head back, blooding trickling into his throat. He chokes on it, spitting out the copper flavored liquid. "That's dusty." He grimaces, slang coming out his mouth without him thinking about it. "….what's your favorite meme?" 

 

Tyler stops, looking up with an incredulous look on his face. Laughing a little under his breath. "Favorite meme?" He ponders, cracking his knuckles and yawning. "….John Cena?." Josh smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides. Tyler loves it when that happens because god damn, Josh is the prettiest work of art he's ever seen. Makes it better that Josh could have Tyler wrapped around his finer in 0.0004 of a second flat. The blood subsides, Josh easing up the paper napkin and setting it aside on the counter.

 

It's calm for now, things are good, but they've been better. He supposes it's good like this. No nosebleeds, headfirst slides into towns they aren't familiar with, no halos and no time stops. Just.

 

Simplicity at it's finest. 

 

He takes a deep breath, calming himself until his ease is clouded with migraines and thoughts about everything he hates. Knives. Stepping on pins? Needles at the doctor's office. Country music, oh dear god no. Fuckin'  _country_ music. That's gotta be the worse. Tyler takes notice, Josh's blank stare in space but he's already getting clouded, further into his subconscious until he can only see the bad things.  _Numbers. Death._ That tumultuous football game. Throwing up in the sandlot and Tyler, well, Tyler standing there. Tyler doesn't notice until it's too late, Josh is already fumbling with the doorknobs and trying so hard to avoid the tears prickling.

 

Josh stands outside and he _shrieks_ , kicks over a trash can, flips a table on the curb and drops to his knees. Tyler standing behind him, watching it all unfold. The burning feeling inside Josh's gut rising. He hurls all over the sidewalk, subtle release, but not enough.

 

He looks up, running a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath. Closed eyes, Tyler rubs a bottle of peroxide on a cloth ball, rubbing it over Josh's cut and hushing him. Snapped back to reality, taking a deep breath, a much needed one and easing his head on the sidewalk pavement. Crouched down, anxiety building up and then--

 

Tyler is placing a firm hand on his shoulder, both hands on both sides. Taking a deep breath and locking eyes with Josh. "Listen to me. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe." Josh listens, obeying Tyler's words. "Repeat after me. Nobody can say 'Bubbles' in an angered voice. Nobody can say 'Bubbles' in an angered voice." He says, words soft like a sheepskin rug. Calming, warm, soft. It doesn't sound broken, no. Not at all. It isn't broken, and he's there to remind Josh that he isn't broken either.  _You are not broken, Joshua._

 

"What does 'Bubbles' have anything to do with this?"

 

"Say it. Try saying it in an angered tone. It sounds hysterical. Do it until you calm down.  _Please?_ " He mumbles, Josh sits up. He looks to the side, gaze locked on the ground beside him. "Think about it, mosaics are beautiful and they're comprised of broken pieces." He shrugs playfully. "Yeah, some things like this don't usually work but listen to me. You. Can. Do. This. You can do it."

 

So Josh stands to his feet, Tyler pats him on the back. "We can watch Pulp Fiction and dance like Uma Thurman." He smiles weakly, Josh--

 

Josh is okay now. He will be okay for a while. Blue numbers sprinting on it wrist, numbers blurring to words. French for that matter. Oh, isn't French just such a _lovely_ language? Josh doesn't understand it, but he decides it means something good. Something about him being okay for a while, because he believes he will be.

 

_"On va mourir."_

 

_"On va voir."_


	8. 「 VII 」

Anger is pouring through like a rapid streaming and crying through his veins, he's shaking, he can't try to anymore. If anger broils within; it must be let out. How do we do that? How do we let the anger flow like a goddamn rapid? What do we do to keep ourselves from killing the thing that angers us the most? In these moments, there's the one part of our mind. You're upset, it all feels gross.

 

You need a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You need to drink even though you're underage. You need to punch, but you've got frail fists. You want to snap something but not sure what. Self control. Because you could theoretically do all of those things. Walk right out the front door; nothing's stopping you. The Sims diamond looming over us; control. You don't feel real, you're just pixels instead of molecules, made for entertainment and to build the life your owners want for you. 

 

Burn the house, throw a punch, somebody's always watching. And the world feels off, like tree branches are ripping free and sprawling around to contain you and shove themselves down your throat angrily until you're fucking _**CHOKING ON THE GODDAMN TREE BRANCHES AND YOU WONDER WHY AND HOW THE FUCK YOU GOT INTO THIS SITUATION BECAUSE--**_

 

because--

 

because your 5 year old self wouldn't want to see you suffer like this. They're full of crayons and glitter. You're full of ink and poison. Tyler knows why this is though. He knows who's running his game. Who has the power to delete him at any moment. With a flick of the Sims diamond, flashy (and hella tacky) green starts to break.  And he realizes it too. He realizes what's going on. He notices that some type of him, the inky black part that leaves a trail of oozy, black, thick, ink is trying to rip free from his chest. Crying as it does so. Taking that musical ribbon that used to elegantly flow around you when you expressed yourself, taking that ribbon and tying a noose with it. This music ain't for the faint of heart, old songs that bring up tumultuous memories. 

 

Losing your virginity to the boy who broke your heart.

 

Listening to a song on repeat during a break up, but when you come back to the song years later, that heartbreak and agony for your younger self resurfaces. It. Never. Really. Goes. Away.

 

"Stay..back." He mumbles, closing his eyes and feeling the burn, he hasn't slept in quite sometime, has he? And the darkness takes over around him, inky figures trying to rip free from his chest but angel wings trying to rip his back and those little devil horns…they don't have significance.

 

Well, in all fucking honesty, he's not really sure what's happening. Whether there's significance or not, there really isn't a fucking reason he deserves to feel like this. Things have happened and it should be over but it's not. The heat pooling in his stomach, it's very strange. And with that word, it looms over him like cartoon bubble letters. The Metal Gear Solid exclamation point sound effect. 

 

STRANGE!

 

and then there's water, and Josh cleaning blood stains from his forehead. "….I--I won't come any closer." He sounds petrified. Kneeling before Tyler, and the latter is tripping out. Sort of in a hazy state. There's something simple about this moment. A moment in which he just  _caves._ He breaks down and throws up beside himself. Josh rubs his back soothingly. "Safe. You're safe."

 

"No I'm not." "Yeah, you are. I--I'm here. To keep you grounded."

 

"And what if I don't want to be grounded? What if I want to be dazed. Confused. Lost and basically waiting for gravity to hit me?"

 

"I've got a shield."

 

"Yeah? and what happens when you don't?"

 

"Then I guess I'll stop time when the bullets fly, now won't I?" 

 

Tyler doesn't respond.

* * *

 

Something about a morning. An afterglow and remains of the night's terror. Tyler's laying beside Josh, rolled up in the clump of bedsheets and Josh's arms around his scrawny body. There's something satisfying about it. He's helpless with it. He speaks a soft mumble. 

 

"Shhh...rest. Lay down. You barfed all over the floor last night. Stay hydrated." Josh clinks the glass of water on Tyler's sidetable. "Please?" Tyler nods, the feeling of disgust returning to his stomach and migraine forming. He can  _feel_ it. It's warm inside the house, like summer weather, perhaps it's global warming. Josh is taking off his shirt anyway. He takes a deep breath, downing the water and struggling to sit up. Josh's warms twist, muscles visible when he crosses his arms to take off his shirt. Tyler drinks his water while he watches, almost choking when he sees blue on Josh's wrist.

 

June 7

June 6

May 5

May 1

April 9

April 4

March 000???

 

February 30

February 12

 

"Oh Josh..." Tyler blinks because there's something...

 

STRANGE

 

Because now, Tyler can see those numbers too.

 

 

 

 


End file.
